


Unexpected Encounter

by Anyawen



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest 2020, Amusement, Chagrin, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Q's cats - Freeform, Unexpected Visitors, brief outsider POV, pique - Freeform, team00, unexpected encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyawen/pseuds/Anyawen
Summary: Bond surprises Q and is surprised in turn, the cats know who has the treats, and May knows something the boys don't know.
Relationships: James Bond & May Maxwell, James Bond & Q
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	Unexpected Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Fills the 2018 prompt 'Anything featuring Bond's awesome Scottish housekeeper, May', and also the 2018 prompt 'POV of Bond's little old housekeeper and after he returns from the "dead" she hits him with a slipper repeatedly for giving her such a fright'. Also fills the 2020 007 fest classic table prompt 'Bond’s housekeeper'.

Q opened the door to his flat and blinked in surprise.

“Bond?”

“You were expecting someone else?”

“I was, actually. What are you doing here?”

“Turning in my gear, Quartermaster.”

“You have gear to turn in?” Q scoffed. “I don’t believe it.”

“I do. And I knew you wouldn’t believe it unless you checked it in yourself. R told me you were working from home today, so, here I am.”

“Yes, apparently, here you are,” Q echoed, waving Bond in and closing the door behind him. “Down the hall, first door on the left, if you please.”

Bond noted Q’s bare feet and the rack of shoes by the door and slipped out of his oxfords before crossing the sitting room to the hallway and the door Q had indicated. He saw the sleepy, incurious faces of a pair of calico cats, one whose orange markings were interspersed with soft grey patches, the other with orange and startlingly stark black spots —including a small black spot like a birthmark under the whiskers on her upper lip— in the recesses of a large cat tree as he passed.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked as Q followed him, then slipped around him into what was clearly his home office.

“Jinx and Marilyn. I’m sure you can figure out which is which,” Q replied, pulling an empty tray from a shelf and placing it on the desk.

“You have enough people return gear to you at home that you keep trays here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bond. The trays are for keeping small parts contained while I work,” Q answered, gesturing at the trays and half-assembled bits of tech on every horizontal surface of the room. “They are, however, multi-purpose, so—” Q broke off as the doorbell rang and he pointed to the tray as he slid back out from behind the desk. “—go ahead and put your gear there. I’ll be back in a mo.”

Bond smiled bemusedly and pulled the Walther from his shoulder holster, ejecting the clip and clearing the chamber before putting the pieces on the tray as he listened to Q hurry back through the flat. He frowned slightly at the voice he heard in conversation with Q after the door opened. It sounded familiar, but strangely out of place.

He slid the watch from his wrist, and pulled the slightly smashed earwig from his pocket and placed them on the tray with the gun, and stepped out of the room to lay eyes on Q’s expected visitor.

“May?” he said, shocked, seeing the older Scottish woman who had been his housekeeper for several years. He'd not seen her —nor thought of her, he realized with chagrin— since before he’d been shot off the train in Istanbul and let MI6 believe he’d died.

The woman, one arm outstretched to lean on the wall and keep her balance as she slid out of her shoes, glanced over to him in surprise. A second later her eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed in a frown.

“May, I—”

“James Bond,” she said, pique making her mild Scotish burr stronger. She straightened and marched unevenly across the room toward him, one shoe still on, her house slippers in her hand. “The very nerve of you.”

Bond shot an amused glance to Q before his attention was drawn back to May as she started swatting at him with her slippers. He held up a hand to defend himself against the onslaught, but couldn’t help smiling as the blows had little force behind them.

“The nerve,” she repeated, continuing to smack him with her slippers to emphasize her words. “Going off and getting yourself killed, and then coming back forgetting those who cared for you. No apology, no explanation, not even so much as a bloody hello.”

“Hello, May,” Bond said, grinning as he caught her flailing hands and held them against his chest.

“You’re a right tosser, you know that?” she asked, glaring balefully at him.

“I’ve been told,” he replied, glancing up at Q’s poorly covered snort. “It’s good to see you.”

“Oh, aye, is it? Couldn’t tell with the way you’ve hurried to see me, nor hire me on to clean your new flat.”

“Ah, yes, well. No new flat, you see. Never in London long enough to find one.”

“You’re here now,” she pointed out, freeing her hands and thumping him once more with her slippers before turning and stumping back to the door to finish taking off her shoes.

“I suppose I am,” he said with a nod, then shrugged. “Until they send me out again.”

“Well then, you’d best get busy.”

“I’ll call when I’ve found a place,” Bond agreed with a smile.

“Hmph,” May grunted in response. “You do that, and I’ll see if I can fit you in. Schedule’s gotten busier,” she said, nodding toward Q, who stood leaning on the door and watching their interaction with a bemused smile. “New clients.”

“Yes, how did Q find you?” Bond asked, the question directed as much at Q as at May.

It was Q who answered.

“She was cleaning your flat when I got there.”

“When you got there?” Bond repeated.

“I was sent to sweep the flat for any Q-branch items that might have migrated there, and any documents that the movers shouldn’t see.”

“They sent the Quartermaster to search my flat?”

“I wasn’t Q then, just a tech,” Q said with a shrug. “The promotion came … later. And then you were back.”

“Not that I knew ought of it,” May interjected, “as was the case with your death, too.”

“Indeed,” Q said. “I was the one who told her about Istanbul.”

Bond winced. 

“Aye, and he was the one to tell me you were back, after that business with the bampot who blew up Vauxhall.”

Bond barked a laugh and Q hid a smile behind his hand while May glared at them before cracking a smile. She picked up a bag from beside the door, and, muttering about getting to work she moved off into the kitchen. 

Bond noticed that both cats immediately leaped out of the cat tree to follow her. He didn’t blame them - when May was in the mood, she was a fantastic cook. Not part of her regular housekeeping duties, he had always been quietly thrilled when she’d made use of his kitchen, because he got to eat the results.

Across the room, Q pushed off from the wall and crossed to stand next to Bond, looking off to the kitchen after May.

“She doesn’t usually start in the kitchen,” he said quietly. “Do you think she’ll make something?”

“Depends,” he replied, “on whether she’s happier or angrier to see me.”

Q hummed in response, studying Bond before replying.

“Well, if it’s any indication, I’m always happier than I am angry, and I’m usually quite angry.”

Bond smiled, and followed Q back into his office.

* * *

In the kitchen May chattered at the cats as she put treats down for them, glancing out into the sitting room as she did. She saw the two men smiling and leaning into each other in quiet conversation before they turned to go into the office. She rolled her eyes. They had no idea, did they? Well. She was happy to smack either or both of them with her slippers again, if necessary. Silly boys.

She opened the refrigerator, wondering if Q had any eggs ...


End file.
